Martin Mielke
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After reading about Donald Jack "going west", I got out "Three Cheers for Me" and browsed through it, coming to the part where Bandy crashed his Camel into a duck pond just after take off. As you may recall, his friends gathered around the flaming wreckage and spoke a few words about the deceased, unaware that Bandy had crawled up out of the marsh and was standing among them. Paraphrased: "Don't suppose we'll ever see another quite like him," Wordy said. "He was infuriating bastard sometimes. Just looking at that blank face of his - when my nerves were bad it made me, you know, feel like climbing the wall, and ... But ... I don't know." I shivered, feeling sad. "He certainly was quite a shot," Brashman said. I think he said "shot". "Didn't give a darn about anything", someone else said. I looked around, offended, to see if I could identify this speaker. "Poor devil," Milestone said. I looked down and sniffed. Well, if Donald Jack is standing among us right now, I'll raise a toast to him. So long Jack. Eight Bandy books were not enough.
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